


Love Languages Series

by fireandiceandallthingsnice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Introspection, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:32:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandiceandallthingsnice/pseuds/fireandiceandallthingsnice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I decided to write this five part series called the Love Languages Series and I figured it might need a little explaining. Love Languages are 5 ways discovered by Gary Chapman that describes how people prefer to receive and distribute affection.  These languages are touch, words of affirmation, gift giving, acts of service and quality time.<br/>I applied these languages to five SPN characters and here are the results! Hope you like it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean:Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Go to the Love Languages website if you're curious or don't understand anything and feel free to give me some feedback (compliments and constructive criticism is always welcome)! 
> 
> (Just some quick warnings, sugarplums. These stories are not set at any particular time and don’t really adhere to any sort of canon in the show. It references some sections of the plot but….it’s not that important. This is just me, having a drabble and shamelessly shipping all the shit I want to ship. So, just letting you know that these are independent shorts, not connected to anything…like at all. Thanks, gorgeous people!)  
> All my love xoxoxox

Dean: Touch 

In Dean’s experience, touch had always been used to hurt. You know, thrown up against a wall by some black-eyed asshole, punched by everything under the sun, tied up and kicked; the list went on for a while. So, to be honest, no one was more surprised than him when he thought about…you know…enjoying it. Like, making it all affectionate and shit. 

Mary had always been touchy with him (from what he could remember) and Dean had just figured that all mothers did that. The face touching, holding his cheek securely in her hand and stroking her thumb across his cheekbone. It felt safe. It felt warm and comforting and like home. So yeah, Dean liked that. But it didn’t go any further, no sir. Except for hugging and stuff. Especially with Sammy. 

Sam was a gargantuan lump of muscle and hair (Jesus, that needed to be cut soon or it was going to swallow the kid) and try as he might; Dean could not deny that being hugged by someone taller than you is the greatest feeling the world. He liked being cradled against Sam’s ridiculously toned chest and smelling something else other than death and blood and ectoplasm. And yeah, feeling Sammy sag against him when he’d just given up was nice. Not a nice sort of nice though. That was stupid. It felt like he was relying on you to hold him up and keep him safe, which filled Dean with this hot sort of pride and protective instinct. 

But, to be deadest honest, it was Cas that made him really think about the whole touching thing being used to communicate love and…love. Waking up, cradled in his arms, legs tangled, his head resting on Cas’s chest listening to a steady heartbeat and warm breath ghosting through his hair. God, it was heaven. And really, Cas didn’t even have to try. He just had to hold out his hand or glance at Dean the right way and Dean would keen, practically jumping at the chance to have skin on skin. 

And once he started he could not stop. Like, they’d hold hands under the table, Cas’s hand would be on his thigh while they drove to their next case, the angel’s hands in his hair while they watched Star Trek or (best of all) curled up in all sorts of weird positions at night, just breathing in each other and getting far more than the four, uncomfortable hours Dean was used to. And the sex. Holy mother in heaven, Dean had never had better. Cas dragging him closer, pressing every available inch of sweaty skin together, whispering that he wasn’t close enough, pulling him wherever took his fancy, pressing him up against walls, craving hot, addictive contact. Then, sometimes, it would be soft and slow. Little rolls of hips, lazy kisses and fingers tracing unidentifiable patterns into his skin. 

Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t need it, every hour of the day, every second. If he could, he would have Cas’s hands on him 24/7. Jesus, he was pathetic. But…it’s like a drug. Whether it is Cas or Sam or Mary or another grateful family, people touching him was so fucking addictive. So yeah, used to hurt or not, Dean would be craving contact till the day he died. Fuck it.


	2. Bobby:Quality Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Go to the Love Languages website if you're curious or don't understand anything and feel free to give me some feedback (compliments and constructive criticism is always welcome)! 
> 
> (Just some quick warnings, sugarplums. These stories are not set at any particular time and don’t really adhere to any sort of canon in the show. It references some sections of the plot but….it’s not that important. This is just me, having a drabble and shamelessly shipping all the shit I want to ship. So, just letting you know that these are independent shorts, not connected to anything…like at all. Thanks, gorgeous people!) 
> 
> All my love xoxoxox

Everybody had time for Bobby. Every phone demanded his attention (or the attention of Agent Phillips, who even knew anymore), every hunter begged his advice and every sorry son of a bitch that needed a body buried or salt or a blessed staff or a stake soaked in lamb’s blood or whatever bloody else; they all came to Bobby. 

So, he was used to rushed phone calls, people forgetting to say thank you and a few instances where they kept him up all night with no gratitude at all. And really, it hadn’t been a problem until recently. Bobby was a hard-ass and he could cope with a few young guns forgetting their manners. But with Sam and Dean...it was different. The boys were starting to do it… a little bit more often than what Bobby liked. He was fine with dishing out advice and weapons and spells and all that- that was his job after all. But to be used and abused? No way in hell was that on the table. 

It didn’t used to be that way. Bobby had always liked it when those two idjits came around and actually spent some goddamn time with him, instead of a five second phone call like he was an encyclopaedia or some shit. It was nice to see them, curled up on his couch, watching Stars Wars or whatever other nerdy crap Dean had picked out. It was nice to see them listen to him and actually give a damn about what he wanted. 

Karen had always been good at that. He remembered many a night where the two of them would just sit across from each other, knees touching, and just talk about their days, what they wanted, what they could do. He missed it. He missed her genuine interest in him, treating like an individual person, with thoughts and dreams instead of a wax fucking replica of his father. She knew him and she still cared about him. 

So what if Bobby liked having people in his company? Is it a crime? If it is, Bobby would have gone behind bars with no complaints. 

Well…maybe a few complaints.


	3. Sam: Acts of Service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Go to the Love Languages website if you're curious or don't understand anything and feel free to give me some feedback (compliments and constructive criticism is always welcome)! 
> 
> (Just some quick warnings, sugarplums. These stories are not set at any particular time and don’t really adhere to any sort of canon in the show. It references some sections of the plot but….it’s not that important. This is just me, having a drabble and shamelessly shipping all the shit I want to ship. So, just letting you know that these are independent shorts, not connected to anything…like at all. Thanks, gorgeous people!) 
> 
> All my love xoxoxox

Sam hadn’t noticed it at first. It was something that had just...crept up on him, you know? He didn’t really have time for introspection, what with every leap and hurdle he had had to jump over these past few years. One day, when it was quiet, though, he realised that he quite liked doing things for people. You know, making breakfast and helping the kids in his grade with their homework and…saving the world. 

Maybe it’d gotten a bit extreme.

It used to be just for Jess. It used to be small little things that lit up her whole face. She used to smile at him like he’d made her whole world brighter and that he was really special, that he was really something to be valued. It wasn’t even anything special, but she had treated it like a gem. 

Now, things were different. Ever since Jess died, it wasn’t about affection anymore. It was about guilt and responsibility. It was always his fault, he’d fucked up everything and now he had to pick up the pieces. He had to sew it all back together and he never worried about sewing the pieces of himself together. Because he wasn’t important. He was a liability. He didn’t deserve it. 

No one looked at him like he’d made their world brighter anymore, not even Dean. They all looked at him like he was contagious, that his idiocy and his selfishness and his addiction would be caught if they let themselves get too close. And to be honest, Sam couldn’t say they were wrong. Not really. But still, even with all of that, he still felt this glow in his heart, this growing brightness whenever they finally did something right. When they saved one person or hundreds, he always felt this glow in his soul. He always had, despite what he said when he was 12. That glow was half the reason he wanted to be a lawyer. He wanted to help people. 

So, it was a recent development, but not one that Sam was really surprised by. He’d be servicing people until the day he died. Truthfully, he’d probably hold off Death himself by getting him pizza and those really great onion rings from the shop around the corner. And if that act of service made Sam’s glow burn just that bit brighter like all the others did, then heaven or hell aside; he would go gladly.


	4. Castiel: Words of Affirmation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Go to the Love Languages website if you're curious or don't understand anything and feel free to give me some feedback (compliments and constructive criticism is always welcome)! 
> 
> (Just some quick warnings, sugarplums. These stories are not set at any particular time and don’t really adhere to any sort of canon in the show. It references some sections of the plot but….it’s not that important. This is just me, having a drabble and shamelessly shipping all the shit I want to ship. So, just letting you know that these are independent shorts, not connected to anything…like at all. Thanks, gorgeous people!) 
> 
> All my love xoxoxox

Angel of the Lord. God. Human. Castiel. Cassie. Cas. Castiel had always tried to claim that he never put much stock in titles. And this was completely true, during his millennia in heaven, in the company of his many brothers and sisters. But Earth is a different place. The people are different. And titles don’t mean much when you are surrounded by people who are just the same. But when you’re faced with someone higher or lower than you (in terms of power) it makes all the difference. 

If Castiel was brutally honest, it was always Dean who had bought on his craving for labelling. He loved hearing his name roll off Dean’s tongue, especially if it was in its shortened form. He had felt his grace expand infinitesimally and odd warmth spread through him when he first heard it slip- almost unbidden- from Dean. It had only expanded from there. He chased more power, saying over and over that it was for Dean, so that he could call him Angel again, call him God. It had only just occurred to Castiel that what he really wanted was for Dean to call the angel his own. 

When their relationship came to fruition, Castiel had never felt happier. His name slid off Dean’s lips regularly and without any guilt or pain or hatred tainting it. The best was when Dean had begun to call him “Baby”. It had taken a while for Cas to understand why Dean would refer to him as an infant; but it had been explained to him by Sam (Dean was red faced and mildly incapacitated) that it was a term of endearment. 

Dean’s words got to him easily. They set his heart on fire. They made him want to fight, they made him want to protect and they filled with searing pride; that Dean was his and he was Dean's and nobody could tell him otherwise. When Dean first whispered that he loved him, Castiel had felt so full. So gloriously full of happiness and pride and love and every other emotion under the sun and it was all too much. When Dean groaned out his name or told him to "go faster babe, come on" it had almost wrecked him. 

Cas had never really had a way with words, but others certainly did; and he would be begging for the love and affirmation that could only come from their mouths.


	5. Henry: Gift Giving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Go to the Love Languages website if you're curious or don't understand anything and feel free to give me some feedback (compliments and constructive criticism is always welcome)! 
> 
> (Just some quick warnings, sugarplums. These stories are not set at any particular time and don’t really adhere to any sort of canon in the show. It references some sections of the plot but….it’s not that important. This is just me, having a drabble and shamelessly shipping all the shit I want to ship. So, just letting you know that these are independent shorts, not connected to anything…like at all. Thanks, gorgeous people!) 
> 
> All my love xoxoxox

Henry crossed his hands over his stomach as he lay on the couch of a motel. His grandsons’ fingers clicked oddly over their computer's keys (he was still baffled by the size of these devices. They looked like a slab of cardboard), the fan clicked above him and in the next room over, he could hear people talking about a car being only $28 000 drive-away (with Bluetooth apparently, whatever that was). 

This wasn't his home. Even if it was his time, it wasn't his home. He wasn't with his wife and he wasn't with his son. He would never be home without them. Absently, he began to whistle "As Time Goes By". Dean looked at him strangely for a moment before returning his attention to the screen in front of him. Henry had always loved giving gifts, especially to John. He loved watching his face light up, he loved watching him search in his room for the perfect place to put it. 

If he failed, John would never get a gift from him again. Abbadon would reign and his son would live in a world of danger and violence. He wouldn't live up to his legacy. The idea that he could never start up that music box and watch his son's face grow content in the face of his father's protection was horrifying. That gift meant so much to his son and John meant so much to his father.

It wasn't just John though, Henry pondered. His wife had always loved his little spurts of romanticism. His little gifts that he would pounce on her when he overcame another hurdle on his man to becoming a fully-fledged Man of Letters. The roses on the bed, making dinner for her and his favourite gift of all, her engagement ring. He loved feeling the pull of it as she put her hand on his cheek and wished him well. he loved knowing that he had given it to her and she wore it every day as a gesture of solidarity to him. 

He wished he had the opportunity to meet his grandsons under different circumstances. He wished that they were still flushed and swaddled, curled in John's arms as Henry gave them their first teddy bear. He wished he could have seen them grow up, walk for the first time and be the one to give them a music box of their very own. Instead, he sat with them in a dingy motel helping them do the very job he used to despise. He had to sit there and reckon with the fact that his son was dead and his grandsons never got to fulfil their destiny. 

"Hey, I recognise that tune"

"I hope so, it's from Casanova."


End file.
